What to do with a Bloodthirsty Bludger
by RainyDaysAndGoodBooks
Summary: Regulus Black tries out for seeker, vehemently resents his Herbology class, and accidentally destroys a building.
**KENMARE KESTRELS, CHASER 3: Write about your chosen Death Eater being at school**

 **14\. (word) Clock**

 **8\. (quote) "People in their right minds never take pride in their talents." – Harper Lee, To Kill a Mockingbird**

 **12\. (class) Herbology**

 **Disclaimer: These characters aren't mine**

 **Thanks to Lucy Kent for betaing this!**

Regulus hadn't tried out for Quidditch since second year. It wasn't as though he particularly liked Quidditch, but most of his peers seemed to find it exhilarating and well, as his cousin Bellatrix so aptly put it, "You need to stop sticking your nose into every book in reach. I mean, the ones on dark magic might be useful but- _poetry_. Honestly that's so- _muggle_. Seriously Regulus, are you trying to isolate yourself?"

Sure Regulus did read more than the average Hogwarts student, but all of his peers were just so predictable. Regulus would be surprised if they even knew about the recent protests at Beauxbatons. He knew for a fact that most of them had only one ambition: to become Death Eaters and serve the Dark Lord. And while _of course_ Regulus wanted to serve the Dark Lord, he wasn't just going to be some _pawn_. He was going-.

He was jerked into reality by a cackle of laughter. Gryffindor tryouts seemed to be taking place and as he and his fellow Slytherins ambled down the winding path to the greenhouses, they glimpsed the faint figure of James Potter swooping across the ash grey sky. His scarlet robes flailed behind him as he looped across the Quidditch pitch waving and blowing kisses to those on the ground. "Ooooh look at Potter twirling around the pitch like a confounded pixie. 'I'm James Potter, and _I_ know how to ride a broomstick. Look how _cool_ I am.' Could he get any more full of himself?" Rosier called from beside Regulus deepening his voice so that it sounded positively idiotic as he mocked Potter and ending with an unconcealable tone of disgust.

The other Slytherins roared with laughter, and Regulus nodded curtly all too aware that the next hour would have him on that pitch, "People in their right minds never take pride in their talents." He was not quite sure what had made him say it- quoting a muggle- _the shame,_ and for a split second he froze in horror and promised to burn every muggle book he possessed. Bellatrix was right, muggle objects were too filthy to leave lying around.

The other Slytherins furrowed their eyebrows until Avery nodded in agreement- Regulus gave an unnoticeable sigh of relief. "Well you know the Potters, the whole family's mad. I mean they think _mudbloods_ should be allowed to _learn magic._ And, I heard his father's friends with a _werewolf_." At this, everyone, even Regulus, shivered with disgust

"Thank Merlin they don't allow those sort of creatures at Hogwarts," Rosier replied tugging the iron door of Greenhouse 3 open and holding it open for Odelia Mulciber who batted her eyelashes sickeningly at him.

Regulus stepped into the muggy building, wrinkling his nose in disgust. Herbology was such a pointless subject. As if any if them would need to know how to properly plant a thyme traveler or pluck fire-breathing snapdragons. Than there was the _fertilizer_. There was nothing that Regulus hated more than fertilizer. Oh, the indignity of dirt beneath one's fingernails, the frustration of mulch on a freshly ironed shirt, the painstaking removal of mud from a new pair of slick black shoes. Regulus positively hated Herbology. He hated it so much that- .

Once again Regulus was jerked out of his mind by a burst of laughter. "What," he snapped irritably.

"Just laughing at the look on your face, Reggie," Antoinette Greensly replied, smirking daintily.

Regulus scowled, "You know better than to call me Reggie."

Antoinette continued to smirk as Professor Sprout called role. Today they were picking snitch berries. _Perfect_ thought Regulus as his stomach gave another lurch at the thought of the upcoming trial.

"No. NO. NO! Wait until after I give the instructions," Professor Sprout called as a flock of tiny golden berries ascended toward the glass panels of the dome-shaped ceiling. "You must hold them directly in the center until you have transferred them properly into their containers. Otherwise- as you have all just so kindly demonstrated- they will not hesitate to float away. Now, can anyone tell me what properties allow them to levitate?"

Regulus rolled his eyes. This was yet another reason he hated Herbology. He already knew all the answers. Glancing desperately at the clock (a total of two minutes and thirty seven seconds had passed, and he was already bored out of his mind; this was a new record, but the fact didn't bring him any joy), he groaned silently. Nobody raised their hand. Imbeciles. Of course, they could all be refusing to raise their hands just as he was but the gormless look on Mulciber's face and the way that Rosier's fist had already clenched with the effort of not talking his head off told him otherwise.

The rest of Herbology passed in relatively the same way. At the end of the lesson, only twenty three snitch berries had made into their containers and seventeen of them had been Regulus's. "Excellent job, Mr. Black" Professor Sprout called, and he had to stop himself from shuddering at the close proximity of her grimy robes.

When Professor Sprout finally released them it was with great difficulty that Regulus managed to walk normally, or as normally as could be hoped for, toward the pitch.

"ALRIGHT," Malfoy called loudly, his sleek blond ponytail waving slightly in the cold breeze. "BEATERS TO THE LEFT, SEEKERS TO THE RIGHT, KEEPERS BY THE GOAL, AND CHASERS WITH ME." Regulus walked slowly toward the right shivering _only_ because of the wind now whipping his dark black hair wildly about.

Hours seemed to go by as he and the other potentials stood silently growing colder and colder. Regulus was contemplating which books would best prove his thesis in a recently assigned Charms essay, when Lucius Malfoy strode confidently over. "We're going to start with a few simple exercises," he smirked, and Regulus carefully schooled his face into an expressionless mask.

The exercises, as it turned out, were not at all simple and by the end there were only four candidates left. A thin blonde girl with a look of pure joy on her face, pariah, Regulus immediately labeled her. Any girl knew trying out for Quidditch was social suicide and besides, displaying one's emotions on one's face so openly was disgusting (Grffindorish. Regulus wrinkled his nose). Regulus could count her out. That left a sturdy 4th year with caramel skin and a stocky build- too stocky for seeking. Regulus could probably count him out too. So his only real competition was Tristan Stinson, a tall boy with tight black curls and a mean elbow. One more challenge. He could- might- win this.

60 feet later, Regulus's confidence had almost completely left him. The chill air had left his hands almost completely numb and the snitch was nowhere to be seen. He glanced at Stinson who, smiled?, at him, and then- to his horror- heard the telltale whoosh of a bludger. So that was why Stinson had smiled, but Regulus didn't have anymore time to think, the bludger was coming closer and closer and so was- the snitch? Without thinking, Regulus scooped the snitch out of the air and wildly kicked the bludger. Pain- excruciating pain, but he could feel the snitch, smooth and certain in his palm.

Regulus dived toward the ground- his foot was almost certainly broken, when he heard the tinkling of broken glass and the shouts of several students. Miraculously, he landed gracefully on the pitch and clutched his broom for support.

A few students were pointing now, and he turned to see the faint outline of the Herbology greenhouses. One of them had a several holes in its side, and more and more seemed to be appearing. _Somehow_ , Regulus had kicked the bludger all the way into a Herbology greenhouse. Though the haze of pain, he smirked. There was no way he wasn't getting on the team now, and he doubted the greenhouse would be fixed in time for his next lesson.

Arm in arm with Avery and Rosier (who suddenly seemed to find him very interesting, _huh_ , perhaps Narcissa was right; Quidditch players were the most popular), he made his way up to the hospital wings grinning faintly at his unexpected victory and- mentally planning out his Transfiguration project.


End file.
